


Cold Dead Heart of a Lover

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Blood, Ed's a vampire, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Romance, Vampire AU, Vampirism, long fic, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Ed has a long painful history as a vampire, most days he almost wishes that he was mortal again, but something about Oswald and his acceptance of the circumstances makes him feel that perhaps he can live his life this way, he's just not sure he wants to live it without him.





	1. Happy Birthday

“Happy Birthday, Ed” He muttered to himself as he wiped the sleeve of his denim jacket over his nose, he looked at the smeared blood staining the material turning it a dark sort of brown color. The biting cold air made him all the more aware of his bloodied nose and busted lip. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his dress pants to hide his trembling hands, he stroked his index finger along the edge of his wallet.

‘$967.00 is what we have, that’s enough. Enough to leave here. To stay somewhere until we get a job.’ He thought to himself as he walked down the street. 

He kept his focus straight ahead ignoring the passersby who would look his direction, people curious about the boy with the busted face. He hadn’t gotten a chance to look at himself yet, but he knew he had to look like garbage. He laughed to himself, his father sure knew how to have a proper send off for his eighteen-year-old son. His ears were still ringing from the screaming, throat raw, and body aching. He knew that by tomorrow morning he’d feel ten times worse, but it was worth it just to be free of that place, to be free of those people. He sighed wishing his mother would leave him, but she was a simple woman, her husband provided for her and could put up a good front around friends and family. So she opted to stay, only once when Ed had been eight had she threatened to leave, and his father had been sure to hit that idea out of her head.

Ed picked up his pace as if the faster he walked would cause those memories to just fade into the darkness. 

He came to a stop outside of a pub, an establishment he’d be inside of a few times with partial friends. He smiled to himself thinking of the last time he’d been to the place, a sort of date with the boy who had made him realize it was okay to have an attraction to other guys. In his mind he’d always hoped they could run away together, that Ryan would be his knight in shining armor, slay the beast and steal him away into the night so they could live happily ever after. Fairytales weren’t real though. 

He stepped into the building, immediately his senses assaulted by the stench of cigarette smoke and deep-fried foods, barely anybody looked in his direction. If the health department bothered with checking then they would find a good hundred or so health code violations in the establishment, including the obvious teenagers at the bar doing boilermakers. 

Ed headed straight towards the restroom, once inside he checked to ensure it was empty. He let out a sigh of relief once he realized he was the only one in the room. He went to the sinks to look at himself in the mirror that hung on the wall. His face as expected looked like Hell. He gingerly touched around his right eye, a deep cut marked his skin close to his eye. His nose by some miracle hadn’t been broken, his bottom lip was swollen, blood drying on his skin making it appear that he’d ripped into somebody’s jugular. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he hastily grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, he turned on the water, and dampened the paper towels. He did his best to be careful as he cleaned the blood from his face, but it didn’t make a difference. He hissed and groaned at the stinging throbbing pain, more tears rolling down his cheeks. 

He startled at the door opening, he quickly tossed the used paper towels into the waste bin before turning to face whoever had come into the room, a lingering fear that his father might come for him. Relief washed over him when he realized the man was nobody he knew, not even just a familiar face. Despite himself he found himself staring, the man was about his height if not a couple inches taller, wide broad shoulders, sharp facial features, and kind green eyes. He smiled when his eyes landed on Ed, his attention fully now focused on the teen.

“Wow what kind of fight did you lose, kid?” He asked laughing as he approached him.

Ed backed up until he felt the edge of the sink hitting against his lower back, the man didn’t seem to take notice. He stopped before him, barely any room between them.

“I’m fine” He replied, voice shaky.

The man laughed again shaking his head. “That’s a really bad lie, where are your parents at, we should probably give them a call.”

“No, do-don’t do that. I’m fine, I promise.” He reached out grabbing hold of the man’s wrist, his tight grip. 

“Okay, I think I get what’s going on. At least let me get a doctor to check you out, the free clinic isn’t far from here.”

He considered his offer, in the back of his mind a voice screamed for him to just leave, to hit this bastard over the head if he had to, just get out, but that voice was so hard to hear at the moment. Some stronger pull told him to follow him. Before he knew it he was outside back into the chilly night air, shivering and pulling his jacket tighter around himself as he mindlessly followed this stranger down the sidewalk and around a corner right into an alleyway. Even then he couldn’t stop himself. He remembered the film White Zombie, how the bride just aimlessly followed whoever controlled her through black magics. 

The stranger placed a hand against his chest shoving him up against the side of a building, still Ed couldn’t react outside of his eyes widening, panic written all over his face.

“Lost boy, no family to love you. I bet your daddy did that to your face, am I right?” 

He wordlessly nodded, the man smirked.

“Bet you got a good hit or two in, but no offense you’re rather scrawny. What if I could make it so you could hurt them, get them back for everything they ever did to you.”

Still he gave no response, his body trembled from the cold and from the fear coursing through him. He didn’t understand what he was saying, what he meant with any of this. Ed tensed as he noticed a change in the man’s eyes, noticed how the whites of them became bloodied, the man placed a hand against the side of his neck, Ed shivered as he felt claws scratching against his skin.

“Nobody will ever bully you or abuse you again, I promise.”

His mind became a blank after those words were spoken. The last thing he truly recalled was the stranger opening his mouth wide revealing elongated fangs reminiscent of a snake, a searing pain followed soon after, and total darkness.


	2. Undead Hangover

Ed came to with a throbbing headache, he rubbed at his temple groaning at the pain he felt in his head. He started to pull himself into a sitting position but was stopped but the onslaught of fierce cramps he felt in his stomach.

“Oh God, what happened?” 

He looked around at his surroundings, he found himself in an alleyway. He rubbed his hands over his face trying to recall what had happened. Piece by piece memories came back to him; he remembered his father finding out about him and Ryan, he remembered the screaming, his mother crying, he remembered being beaten within an inch of his life….He remembered going to the pub, the strange man in the bathroom, and….

“Oh god” Despite the pain he felt he pulled himself to his feet, he stumbled and fell against the brick wall of what he was quite sure was a pawn shop. He closed his eyes tightly.

Sharp teeth piercing the side of his neck. He reached up pressing his index and middle fingers to the spot where he recalled being bitten, he hissed at the sensitivity he felt there. He leaned his forehead against the wall sighing at how cool it felt against his currently feverish skin. Another hit of pain in his stomach, a pain akin to his father kicking him while wearing his steel toe boots, a pain fierce enough to make him drop to his knees clutching at his gut.

The stranger’s words echoed in his brain. It had sounded like he’d been a salesman trying to sell him on a car that he had no interest in what so ever, but either way he ended up leaving with the car. The question was, what did he leave with? What was that man, why did his eyes get that way?

Questions, so many questions flooded his mind making him dizzy, the stomach pains persisted, and he felt a caged anxiety growing.

“Hey, are you alright?” 

Ed’s head shot up at the sound of a voice. Despite how dark it was outside he could clearly see the man standing at the end of the alley; a portly middle aged man with a receding hairline, and dark brown eyes. The man’s look went from curiosity to sudden fear, Ed wondered if he looked human, because he really didn’t feel human. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, he got to his feet and moved towards the man. To his surprise he wasn’t running, Ed was suddenly reminded of himself when he’d been attacked. The pains in his stomach grew worse and the heartbeat sounded louder the closer he grew to the older man, he felt a burning in his brain as he lunged at the stranger. He grabbed him by the front of his t-shirt and slammed him against the wall taken aback by his own strength for only a moment as some deeply buried instinct took over. Without much thought Ed buried his fangs into the side of the man’s neck, he growled low in his throat as he tore through flesh, blood pouring into his mouth, spilling over his lip and dribbling down his chin. He dug his claws into the man’s shirt, scratching his chest as he continued to drink from him. He could feel the man’s fingers digging against his back uselessly as he tried to defend himself, Ed gave a jerk of his head ripping at his flesh, the sound tearing and wet. A sound that should disgust him, that normally would disgust him, but right now it was pleasing.

In no time the man’s struggling ceased, large body going limp in Ed’s grasp. He extracted his fangs and stepped back away from him watching as the man’s body dropped to the ground, eyes lifeless and glazing over as they stared at nothingness. Ed wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his mouth.

He realized the sound of a heartbeat had stopped.


	3. Testing Theories

In the months that followed his incident he’d come to find out that whether it be literally or symbolically, Edward Nashton had died. He never did know if the boy had died the night he’d been abandoned by his family or if he’d died in the alleyway when that creature attacked him, but either way he was dead. Ed could feel the death take place, he’d even grieved for himself. Sitting in his motel room for those first few days and crying. There had been a period to adjust to his new reality, to let it sink in that he was no longer a human being. 

The logical part of his mind cringed at the realization of what he was. By all reason and logic there was no reason that vampires should exist, no possible way for such an occurrence outside of works of fiction. He’d found himself going to the library in the evening for a straight week to read every book he could on vampires, each cliché and trope making him roll his eyes.

Close to none of these old tropes applied to him, he didn’t feel that he was the thing in Dracula or any works of pop culture. The movies and shows he once enjoyed now felt offensive in a sense, he wasn’t that, he wasn’t some cloaked corpse who slept in a coffin through the day or kidnapped runaways. 

At least the pitiful information provided in fiction gave him something to go off of, hypothesis to put to the test. The simplest and first one was reflections; he’d found the moment he’d checked into the motel and gone into his room that he did indeed have a reflection. Now if at any point in time people like himself could not see their reflection, he’d found it may more or less have to do with silver and less with the inane idea that mirrors reflected the soul. Being able to see his own face was in a way a blessing, it allowed him the chance to properly get a look at himself. On the surface he looked normal, his skin was perhaps just the slightest bit paler than it was before, but nothing anybody would take notice of. The wounds on his neck were now healed over, all sign of what occurred gone, a sense of possible insanity filling him. That was at least until the hunger had settled in again. He’d caught on fast that the cramps came when he needed to feed, when that happened he saw that his appearance changed to a frightening degree. He stood before the mirror, fingers shaking as he opened his mouth, he pulled up his top lip to get a look at his teeth. He groaned as he felt then shifting and growing, watched his canines elongate and sharpen much like his attacker’s teeth had done. The whites of his eyes bloodied leaving his eyes to nearly look black, despite this his eye sight was perfect. He could hear, smell, and see everything to an alarming degree in this state. He could smell cigarette smoke from other rooms, could smell the cheap bleach the cleaning lady had used, could even smell the stench of sex from the couple in the room down the hall. 

Heightened senses appeared to come along with a hunting instinct. He’d done his best to ride it out, but only found that his mind grew foggy. The longer he went without hunting for prey then the less human he felt, the sounds he made guttural and harsh like a wolf. A familiar sense of disassociation over took him, he took a backseat view as his body moved of its own accord, stalking through the halls and into the stairwell. He could hear footsteps, could hear somebody singing a pop song to themselves, his pace quickened as he followed the sound, followed the scent of flowery perfume. Soon he’d found a girl around his own age sitting on the steps, headphones on preventing her from hearing the harsh ragged breaths or low growls. Ed had felt as repulsed as he had satisfied as the first drop of her blood hit his tongue.

An interesting side note he’d found as he got into the shower was that once he’d fed his senses returned to normal. His eyesight once more was in poor condition, his hearing moderate. Unfortunately for him he then had to check out immediately the next morning before anybody could find the body, he highly doubted the killing could trace back to him, but he didn’t want to take the chance.

That had lead to his next test; sunlight. It admittedly had been the one part of lore that he very nearly believed in, he feared walking out in the sun only to be turned to ash or stone. As he’d stepped out into the morning light he’d felt anxious and on the verge of tears, but nothing happened as the sun washed over him. He took a moment to stand there just staring down at his hands, no visible signs of blistering or of his skin drying out. He felt nothing outside of a mild discomfort. As he walked he did feel weak, in a way it felt as if the sun, the thing that provided so much life for everything on Earth was draining life from him. Once he’d returned to the comfort of the library with its poor lighting he’d begun to feel more alive, or as alive as he possibly could.

Through testing of his own he discovered many things about his new self. He discovered his heart still beat, but at a much slower rate. He found his skin was cool, but not cold. He found that after purchasing an array of religious items that none of them harmed him, but strongly felt that if somebody was in possession of one of those items and truly had faith in that religion then it would bring him pain. He reasonably had no desire to test that out at the time, he supposed perhaps one day he’d have a friend who he could thoroughly test that theory out with, but he doubted he ever wanted to disclose this with another person.

By the end of it all, logic and science proved that in a strange sense this was like a virus. It spread through being bitten, but he knew there had to be an extra step. In his time of being a vampire, he hadn’t once seen any of his own victims walking about, even their murders being mentioned on the news never had a follow up about empty coffins. Whatever had happened to him when he’d been bitten, he’d been turned into this. In fables and films, he saw repeatedly that drinking the blood of a vampire in the midst of or right after being fed on could lead to becoming a vampire. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. If this really was a sort of a virus then it would need to spread somehow, he felt it must spread through blood, through ingesting the blood of somebody infected. 

There was an immense joy in discovering that there was solid logic and reason behind at least some of this, but still he felt empty. He felt like something was wrong, missing from himself. 

He stood across the street from the house, he could just see a figure moving through the window, could see the lights cast from the screen of the TV. There was something that felt terribly off about himself.

A primal part of his mind wondered if killing them would solve it, would scratch that bloodlust itch. 

It was only a theory, but one he was more than happy to test. He’d always dreamed of killing his parents.


	4. Rebirth

His movements were quiet and careful despite the fact that if memory served him correctly, he had no reason to be so cautious as he entered what once had been his home. The living room was dark, only a faint light cast over the room from a stand lamp that stood off to the side by the couch, upon the couch was his mother. She lay curled up on her side, bottle of beer held loosely in one hand, drool running from the corner of her mouth and soaking into the cheap material of the brown couch. He knelt by her side and looked at her closely, he took note of each feature of hers that he shared; the shape of her nose, the dark brown of her eyes, and her slightly too big ears. He smiled to himself thinking about the days when she tried; when he’d been little, and she would threaten to leave, she would gather him up in her arms and promise everything would be okay. Then his father would promise to stop drinking, he swore he’d talk to a therapist about his temper, and occasionally that would happen. Then within a month or so he’d hit her again, he’d grab Ed by the arm hard enough to bruise and toss him against the wall, his anger only increasing as the small child wailed in pain.

She used to try, but it was never enough. 

He pressed a kiss against the top of her head, he closed his eyes groaning as he felt his fangs and claws extending. By the time she began to stir awake it was already over, he drew his claws across her throat like a scalpel, blood spraying from the gaping wound. Her body spasmed and jerked, mouth gaping as she choked and gurgled. He felt a sickness in his stomach as he stood and watched her, watched as her body fell onto the floor, still spasming like a gold fish dumped from its bowl and onto the kitchen floor. There was a sense of relief when the movements stopped, when her body became prone like that of a doll. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, he turned to look towards the small hallway that lead towards three rooms; a bathroom, his old bedroom, and his parents’ bedroom.

Slowly he walked down the hallway, he ran the tips of his claws along the wall, humming as he remembered the years spent in this home. Horrible years, good days taking place between weeks that felt never ending. Times that he felt as if the abuse was all in his head, perhaps his problems were first world and he was just ungrateful; he had after all had two parents, a roof over his head, and most days a meal or two. 

He stopped outside of his parents’ bedroom, the door stood ajar, he could hear the TV playing from inside, the light from the screen casting odd shadows over the walls. Slowly he pushed the door open, he slipped into the room and stilled as his eyes landed on his father. The man lay in bed, sheets tossed to the side, bottles and cans littered the floor; for the most part the house looked the way it had the evening he’d run away. He chuckled as he realized nothing had changed, all that time his father claimed that life would be better without him in it and yet nothing changed, the abuse and the alcoholism continued on as it had when Ed had been home.

Gathering himself he strode towards the bed, unlike with his mom he didn’t want this to be mostly painless. He reached down wrapping his fingers around his father’s throat, he squeezed tightly, claws biting into soft flesh. His father’s eyes flew open, immediately he began flailing and grabbing at Ed’s wrist trying to pry him off. Ed dragged him out of bed and slammed him up against the wall, fangs bared as he growled. He felt such a pulsating seething rage as he stared at his father; he thought about every broken bone, blackened eye, and cracked tooth. He pulled him away from the wall and threw him towards the night stand, the back of his head bounced off the TV screen. The stand wobbled, and the old set fell off and crashed to the filthy carpet, Ed’s father remained slumped on the floor groaning in pain. 

Ed took no time in advancing on him. His movements were fast, a vicious primal nature to his actions as he grabbed a fistful of the older man’s hair and jerked his head to the side. He plunged his fangs into the side of his neck going as deeply as he could before pulling back, he pulled out flesh and muscle, blood spraying over his face as his father screamed in pain. He spit the chunk of flesh onto the floor, tongue running across his bottom lip finding he rather hated the taste. He stared down at the man before him, just barely clinging onto life.

“You did this to me. If it wasn’t for you, if it wasn’t for everything then I wouldn’t have run away! I wouldn’t have been attacked!” He yelled, voice cracking as he punched his father in the face.

He punched him again and again until his knuckles were bruised, his father’s blood smearing over his hand. 

“I hate you!” 

He delivered one last punch to the now dead man’s face, he watched as the body dropped onto its side. Dark brown eyes stared ahead at nothing, his face was beaten to a pulp, and his t-shirt was soaked through with blood.

That really was the night that Ed felt something in him die.


End file.
